


Lessons in the Lyrics

by some_good_clean_fun



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Girlfriends/No Wives, Falling In Love, Friends to Lovers, Long-Distance Friendship, Love songs, M/M, No Conflict, Quarantine, how can i be back on my bullshit if i never truly left
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-11 23:00:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29000325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/some_good_clean_fun/pseuds/some_good_clean_fun
Summary: Drew likes being Danny’s sounding board. Danny’s writing an EP of music, which isn’t new, but these tracks aren’t comedic, which is. There is something about being a person Danny trusts in this that fills the empty spaces within the fabric of Drew. Something about the way Danny listens to his advice and eagerly seeks his feedback.
Relationships: Danny Gonzalez/Drew Gooden
Comments: 14
Kudos: 26





	Lessons in the Lyrics

It’s the kind of humid Drew thinks he should be used to by now, a familiarity embedded in his skin so he doesn’t feel so uncomfortable. But he does, because the humidity is oppressive, because even though it’s Winter it isn’t cold, and therefore he’s wearing shorts and one of his thinnest t-shirts when Danny video calls. Danny is wrapped up in a thick-looking fleece-lined sweater. This is just one of the many contrasts between them. Danny has his glasses on. His hair isn’t styled. He looks cozy and comfy and warm. Drew knows his own hair is haphazardly brushed to the side with extra-hold pomade because otherwise it frizzes up and feels terrible. He is awkward and disagreeable and also warm, but in the bad way.

“You look miserable,” Danny says with no preamble, and trust Danny to lead with a sharp tongue while looking so soft.

“I cried myself awake this morning,” Drew replies. “Are you calling for a reason or just to give your editorial opinion on my appearance?”

“Both, I think. I wrote another song. I was hoping you’d give it a listen?”

Drew perks up. He likes being Danny’s sounding board. Danny’s writing an EP of music, which isn’t new, but these tracks aren’t comedic, which is. There is something about being a person Danny trusts in this that fills the empty spaces within the fabric of Drew. Something about the way Danny listens to his advice and eagerly seeks his feedback. 

“Okay, send away.”

“I haven’t recorded it yet. I’m going acoustic. Do you have the time to hear me play live?”

Is it too forward to say he’d make the time if necessary? Too open? Too clingy? Drew decides not to care. He’s made his one and only resolution to refuse to self-censor so long as the only one potentially getting hurt is him. 

“I always have time for you,” Drew says, and Danny rolls his eyes because he hasn’t yet worked out when Drew’s being sincere. 

“So this is slower than my usual stuff,” Danny says, slinging his guitar onto his lap and adjusting his capo. He plays a few bars of the intro, fucks up a chord and tries again. He appears nervous, embarrassed, eyes focused on the strings like they’re about to snap and whip him. “Sorry. I haven’t played it much,” he murmurs, looking back up at his screen.

Drew gives a sympathetic smile. “There’s no rush. Wanna tell me about it instead?”

“No, I… I think it’s better if I play it,” Danny says, taking a noticeable breath and strumming again.

Drew watches Danny play, enjoying the chord progression and light melody Danny brings in when he starts singing. Danny’s not a bad singer. Drew wonders why he always insists on using auto tune when he can carry notes perfectly well without digital assistance. This song is very different from anything else Danny’s let him listen to so far. It’s almost ephemeral; delicate like dew on an early Spring morning. Drew finds he’s closed his eyes listening to Danny sing about the distance of miles and wanting to feel what the other can feel. 

Danny finishes and there’s the echoing knock of the guitar being rested back on its stand. 

“What did you think?” Danny asks, intent-eyed and gentle-voiced. It’s obvious Drew’s opinion is important to him.

“It’s great. I’d probably add more to the bridge? Link it back to the chorus somehow? That line you had about ‘you’re making it hard to keep the cards close to my chest.’ I think it went on something like ‘say you’ll understand when I try to invest in a future where there’s no space between you and me’, it was really sweet, but it didn’t scan right when you sang it? You hiccuped on a couple of the syllables.”

Danny tenses his jaw and Drew’s worried he’s been too analytical, figures he could’ve been more of a cheerleader than a critic, but then Danny nods and says, “Yeah, I think you’re right. Back to the drawing board, I guess.”

“Was that your first draft? If so, it’s like nine times better than anything I could write.”

“It was more like my fifth draft,” Danny says, and Drew is not imagining a tone of despondency, he knows he’s not.

“You don’t have to change anything if you don’t want to. The song’s beautiful the way it is. I was just, you know, trying to be helpful. But if what I said was the opposite, feel free to disregard it.”

Danny shakes his shoulders out, looks into his camera and gives Drew a smile. “No, I appreciate the feedback. It’s difficult to be thrown back into the process when you thought you had a complete piece, you know?"

“Tell me about it. Have I ever told you how many thirds of videos I have filmed that I’ve never gotten back to because I became distracted by a research topic and didn’t have the self-will or motivation to finish them?”

“Not yet.”

Danny’s giving him an opening, and Drew’s not going to squander it. Drew feels humbled that Danny trusts him so much, but the trust is mutual. There isn’t much Drew wouldn’t tell him, and this -- an amusing anecdote to lighten Danny’s spirits -- he’s happy to share, even though he’s the butt of the joke.

“Okay, so I had a whole video scripted and planned out about _Frenemies_ , intro filmed and everything, but then I googled BPD and went down a wiki-spiral wherein I began to worry it’s something I might actually have. So I ate a tray full of nachos and fell asleep on my couch for four hours, after which I decided that the video I’d wanted to make had already been done and I moved on with my life.”

“Is that why you made that ‘reviewing old school memes’ video about the O RLY owl and lolcats and shit?”

“Exactly.”

Danny rests his chin on his hand. “That was your funniest this year. Obviously when you work under pressure you create brilliance.”

Drew shrugs, trying and failing not to smile too brightly at Danny’s compliments. 

They chat more, about everything from gaming to filing taxes, until Drew has to go because he has a Zoom meeting set up with his manager. He would much rather stay chatting with Danny well into the night, but he’s postponed this meeting twice already and it’s not like it’s something he should want to avoid, it’s about a new sponsor. 

“Talk soon,” Drew says. “Send me the next draft of your song if you want more of my insightful and not at all frustrating opinions.”

“I will,” Danny replies, shaking his head at Drew and then mouthing, “I won’t.”

They sign off and Drew gets into professional mode, which means nicer clothes, neater hair, and a general but totally fake aura that he knows what the fuck he’s doing. 

*

The next song Danny sends him is not another draft of his take on a love song, but his next comedy venture that rhymes ‘big fat caboose’ with ‘introduce’. Drew can’t say he’s spent much of his time staring at Danny’s ass, but he finds his eyes wandering that way while watching videos, wondering why Danny insists he’s got that juice. Any discomfort he might feel ogling one of his closest friends is quickly overwhelmed by the realization that Danny is shapely in all the ways he finds appealing. It’s not something he’s given much consideration to, before, but now the suggestion’s been made, he thinks about it. A lot. 

“You’re sexually objectifying yourself for your fans again, I see,” Drew says the second Danny picks up his call. They’ve definitively done away with simple greetings and other pleasantries during quarantine. Now, whenever they chat, they start their conversations in the middle.

“But as a joke, so it isn’t so yucky.”

“Because if your fans are anything like mine they’re in the age range of 10 to 70, with an average of 16 and you pointing out how hot you are would be kinda gross.”

Danny snuffs out a snort. “To be sure.”

“Nicely done.”

“But is it any good?”

“The sexual objectification? Top notch. I couldn’t stop staring at your ass during all of your latest videos.”

There’s a beat and then Danny says, “And the song?” 

“It’s a certified bop and you know it. In fact, you could even say it bops harder than hard.”

There’s a laugh from the other end of the call and Drew wishes they were video chatting so he could see the sparkle in Danny's eyes, the deepening of his laughter lines. Danny’s expressiveness is always something he treasures.

Drew half wants to ask Danny about his other song, and half does not, because he knows what the pressure of expectation is like and maybe Danny’s done the same thing he has – abandoned it in a drawer that may or may not get opened years from now. He can never quite decide if pushing friends is supportive or destructive. He knows Danny isn’t exactly like he is, that he’s overall better at handling criticism, that he’s more self-driven and less likely to shrivel up into a ball of anxiety and self-loathing, but he can be fragile in his own ways and the last thing Drew wants is to hurt him. 

It’s more neutral to ask about the EP in general. Less invasive to ask how Danny’s musical ventures are going. So that’s what Drew does, hoping he doesn’t sound like he’s handling Danny with kid gloves. Danny’s a big strong boss boy. He can take adult gloves.

“The EP’s on the back burner for a while. I’m currently more focused on work that will make me actual money.”

Drew doesn’t say that this is a shame, or that he’s disappointed. He just feels that way. Danny’s always his most creative when he’s trying things for the fun of it; because he was curious, or bored, or had enough time and energy. His particular spark of talent always shines brighter when he’s pursuing art for art’s sake rather than meeting contractual obligations. But who the fuck is Drew to judge when he hasn’t attempted anything creatively independent from his YouTube channel since the tour.

“Money. Both the highlight and bane of my existence.”

“You ever wake up in the morning and think, ‘I wanna be rich now’. I always think I’m doing really well, but then I hear or see some story about some fucker who took their fifty-person entourage onto a private island for a week where they got tested for coronavirus twice a day and had a human-sized champagne fountain and I realize I’m making chump-change.”

“You want a human-sized champagne fountain?”

“No. I want to use that money to help others. Donate to local causes, or fund well-vetted international charities, or set up a foundation. Do something worthwhile. With any money left over, I could construct a much more modest human-sized La Croix fountain.”

Drew covers his mouth as he laughs so he doesn’t deafen Danny. He loves how Danny manages to combine an ever-present conscious attempt at being a good person with wit, goofiness and dark humor, depending on the day. 

“I feel like you’ve given that way too much thought.”

“I might have some schematics drawn up somewhere.”

“For the foundation, I hope.”

“Well, yeah, the foundation is everything. You see, you need all these pipes, and how do you keep the carbonation fresh, and…”

Drew interrupts what could well be a three minute monologue. “Okay, I get it, you’re staying on brand. I’m very impressed.”

Danny chuckles. “I think that’s the first time you’ve ever said that to me.”

“God, really? It’s by no means the first time I’ve felt it.”

*

It’s getting warmer, which brings more humidity, and more days Drew spends hours at a time outside, even though masks in Florida suck balls and after a day collecting sweat smell like them too. Part of him, a really big part, the largest part of him really, and he promises himself this isn’t a dick joke, kind of wants to slink back to his happy little home and never go outside again. So he’s purposefully pushing himself to interact with the outside world again, in a common sense way, ensuring he’s maintaining a safe distance of usually more than 6 feet, regularly using hand sanitizer and carrying more than one type of mask with him at all times. 

He walks to Amanda’s house a couple of times a week and they hang out for a few hours watching terrible television shows and eating junk food. Having a best friend who’s also a former flame isn’t as weird as he’d initially thought it would be. They intrinsically get things about each other that no one else could get and there’s a security being with someone who knows you even better than you know yourself. They’re better as friends – a phrase that once used to make Drew throw up in his mouth a little – because when they were together they always wanted something the other couldn’t give. And honestly, Drew’s stopped feeling the all-consuming attraction and passion he used to feel, ninety-nine percent of the time. Amanda’s still beautiful to him, but he doesn’t have many compulsions to touch.

They’re sprawled on Amanda’s couch with a bowl of popcorn and _Love Island_ playing when Amanda stares at Drew with disconcerting concentration. 

“What’s going on in the life of Drew lately?” she asks, adjusting her glasses and affecting a tone of a 60 Minutes reporter.

“Nothing much, which we both know is how I like it. Why?”

“You seem happier.”

“That’s because I’m spending time with you, my darling dearest.”

“No. It’s something else. I can tell.”

Drew shrugs. He hasn’t been feeling the oppressive cloak of dissatisfaction and malaise lately but he hasn’t thought to pinpoint why. He quickly scans through options in his mind and comes up with two suggestions. 

“I’ve been socializing more and allowing myself the freedom to say what I want to say when I want to say it.”

“It’s a good look on you.”

“So what you’re really saying is that I looked downright awful before.”

Amanda pokes him in a tender section of his underarm with painful accuracy. “I’m saying that what was a very handsome face and demeanor before is now exceptionally handsome. You wear happiness well.”

“I don’t wanna be a dick, but who doesn’t?”

Amanda laughs and pokes him again and Drew retaliates by mussing up her hair and sprinkling popcorn all over it. 

Walking home that night, Drew thinks about what Amanda said, turning the words over and over until they warp into distortion and slowed down reverb. Then he decides not to think about it again, because that’s been one of his fatal flaws for as long as he can remember. He’s happier. There’s no single reason why. It’s better not to question it. 

*

Drew watches Danny’s videos differently now. Before, he’d put them on in the background, idly note jokes he’d make the same way, ones he absolutely wouldn’t, and he’d smile and nod along and think about what he’d suggest and marvel at the things only Danny could do so well. Now he gives every video his full attention, watching intently, mentally cataloging Danny’s appearance. He realizes he has a preference for his more casual look; fluffy hair and one of his favorite t-shirts, shirts and socks – always socks. Before, whenever Danny would do green screen or any kind of standing bit, Drew would think about how annoying it would be to focus the camera, get the lighting set up. Now he concentrates on Danny’s physicality and how his waist looks perfect to hold onto, imagines how his strong-looking arms would feel wrapped around Drew’s back. Whereas once, Danny’s attractiveness wasn’t something he’d given much thought, was just kind of an assumed fact, now it’s all-consuming and likely to distract him for minutes at a time. 

Drew’s very good at not letting it make things awkward, though. He’s had a lot of practice in that department.

He video calls Danny one mild Spring day to spitball video ideas and get his opinion on whether it’s feasible to make an entire commentary piece on a TikToker who only has 15 TikToks uploaded.

“I don’t see the problem. As long as you’re positive it’s not another one of my alter-egos,” Danny says. 

“It would require you self-tanning seven shades darker and putting on a highly offensive accent, so I know it isn’t you,” Drew replies. 

Danny frowns, the line between his brows deepening. “Because the TikToker has darker skin than me or because _they’re_ obviously tanning?”

“The second one.”

“Jesus. You definitely have enough material for a commentary piece, then. Fuck. How are people still pulling this shit?”

Drew loves Danny’s immediate disgust, the vitriol he himself had felt. “I don’t know. It boggles my mind.”

“It sounds like a bunch of… “ Danny starts. 

They both join in for the chorus of, “mumbo jumbo to me!” Danny grinning so sweetly, Drew thinks his heart’s going to beat clean out of his chest and dance around the floor.

Danny drags his fingers through his hair, scratches his neck and Drew’s confused how such a simple movement can be so mesmerizing. Drew wonders what it would be like to take that hand and smooth his fingertips along each vein, to press kisses against the knuckles, nip gently at the fleshy part of the thumb. He envisages how wide Danny’s eyes would get and the space between his pink, curved lips, the bob of his Adam’s apple as Drew would travel kisses up his wrist. 

“… Drew? Are you okay?” 

Drew realizes that can’t have been the first time Danny said his name and he shakes himself out exaggeratedly. “Sorry. Was remembering the tour and that time the bus got chased by literal 14 year olds.”

“And then we found out they thought it was Hayley Kiyoko’s bus and Kurtis posed for a series of photos inspired by one of her shoots,” Danny adds on, giggling. 

“We watched from the windows, texting directions. Good times.”

Danny sighs the kind of sigh that isn’t at all artificial, something brought up from in the depths of oneself. “I miss us just like being in the same room.”

“Fuck, me too. I haven’t been vaccinated yet, but my mom has.”

“Both doses?”

“Yeah.”

“Who knows, maybe in a couple of months?” 

Sometimes, the time between the last time he saw Danny in person and the present feels inconspicuous, no big deal. Time is amorphous and usually Drew doesn’t mind. Chatting with Danny can fill the void and because he works from home and very little has changed for him day-to-day, it can be easy to forget it’s been 15 months since they occupied the same space. The lamenting note in Danny’s tone brings that distance viscerally to the forefront and drags an ache along with it. 

“I don’t want to make plans that might need to be canceled, but at the same time I think we should make plans,” Drew says.

They spend the next half hour loosely organizing, though a good portion of their machinations are pipe dream material. By the end of the call, Drew’s lying on his couch and Danny’s head is against two cushions on his own and Drew can nearly convince himself he could reach out and touch. 

“I have a big day tomorrow, so I better go,” Danny says, sounding forlorn.

“How is it a big day?”

“Music video shoot. Lots to arrange and a limited time frame to achieve everything I want.”

“I’ll keep everything crossed for you.”

Danny quirks an eyebrow. “I didn’t know you were that flexible.”

Drew smiles and nods. “Ahuh. I’m very bendy.”

Danny smiles back, with the kind of enigmatic spark he shows occasionally; a mixture of provocation, confidence, sensual energy and other elements besides. 

“Seeya.”

*

Drew admits to himself that he’s well and truly smitten after the tenth day in a row thinking about Danny within ten minutes of waking up. Danny has started to live rent free in his head and that seems incredibly unfair considering he owns a house in Illinois, the very least he could do is pay for utilities. 

Drew’s had crushes on friends before, and there have been times they’ve gone somewhere with the person in question and times they haven’t. If it’s wrong to lead a parallel fantasy life with someone, he honestly doesn’t want to be right. It feels good to picture spending time with Danny, basing actions and responses on what he knows from real life, but adding some pure imagination too. 

When Drew checks his email and sees the title of ‘another ep song’ from Danny’s account, he opens it immediately, listening to it a few times over before formulating a reply. This track is gutsier than the last song Danny played him, still mostly guitar, but with a drum and bass beat behind it. The main message behind the song is about how the word ‘almost’ has more than one meaning, that of something that never happened and something that could still happen, and there are lines that resonate at the same frequency Drew’s been feeling down to his bones. 

Drew especially likes the lyric, ‘there’s a gap between you and me/a space only we can see/a chasm that’s opening wider/if I hold out my hand for you/ask what you wanna do/will you help me push the gap tighter?’

Danny has different music taste to Drew most days. Drew can count how many songs they both love on one hand. But this is different again, in a way Drew really enjoys, and he isn’t sure if it’s the emotion, or the melodic embellishments, or the fact he’s low-key obsessed with everything Danny does at the moment. 

He emails back, “I have no notes. This song is fire.”

Danny calls him a second later. “You like it?”

“It’s a new direction for you, but it works so well. Your fans will go wild.”

There’s a pause and then Danny says, somewhat disjointedly, “My fans. Right.”

“I saw that your music video is still on the trending page. That’s amazing,” Drew offers, because Danny sounded distracted and Drew knows the best way to gain his attention again is to talk about his work – not because he’s vain, but because he’s better with a conversational topic he knows a lot about.

“Apparently one of the actors in the film it’s based on tweeted about it, so it slid off the trending page but hopped back on again. Uh, I hate to do this, but I actually have to go. I have an appointment.”

“Oh? Not a problem. Talk soon.”

“Ahuh. Bye.”

Drew frowns to himself and goes about his day, scripting a new video and filming a sponsorship segment for his newest sponsor, GlassesUSA. These kinds of things always take longer than he initially thinks they should, especially because he has to show off his new pairs of glasses without too much glare from his lighting. Plus, he always allows himself more creative freedom during sponsorship sketches, but he has to ensure they won’t garner him many suggestions back from the company. Gone are the days he can film multiple versions of himself making out in the name of advertising.

It’s dark by the time Drew finishes and he queues up Danny’s song and the earlier tracks he sent him from the EP to play over in a loop, imagining that Danny’s singing them directly to him and him alone. The songs are all distinct from each other, but there’s a cohesive theme of growing love and it’s easy to picture Danny glancing up at him singing about connection and understanding and finding a better version of yourself with someone else. 

*

Drew has never considered himself particularly brave. He’s been pushed into making risky decisions, and he’s jumped into difficulty in the name of self-preservation, but bravery isn’t his strong suit. Still, after another few weeks of thinking about Danny constantly, clutching at any small moment they share, and basically driving himself crazy with want, he decides he’s going to take a leap into faith. If there’s no way Danny can feel the way he feels, then it will be okay, because Drew will always have his involved and increasingly elaborate fantasy life, and he’s gotten along well with exes and past-crushes before. 

He spends about 84 years getting ready once he gets an affirmative text from Danny that he’d be available to video chat. He wears a short-sleeved button down and mid length shorts, because it is, of course, hot and humid. He shaves and arranges his hair into as neat a fashion as he can manage. And then he spends about twenty minutes fussing with his collar. 

He uses his laptop to call Danny, because his hands keep trembling, and also he wants the picture quality and lighting to be better than his phone can give him. 

“Hi,” he says when the call’s accepted. 

He had other things he was going to say, but he forgets them all when he sees Danny. Danny’s hair is damp like he’s just gotten out of the shower, and he’s pink-cheeked and bright-eyed. He’s wearing a tank top with a linen shirt over it, not exactly sheer but not opaque either. He looks really good and Drew drinks it all in, his mouth getting steadily more dry. 

“Hey?” Danny replies, quizzical. He shifts position, rolling his shoulders. Drew can see every play of muscle in his arms. He stares, biting his lower lip, until Danny waves a hand in front of his camera. “Earth to Drew.”

“I called you with an agenda and now I can’t seem to force it out.”

“What kind of agenda?”

“A bisexual one.”

Danny scrunches up his face into a smile, tilts his head. “Huh?”

“I have a thing for you.” Drew swears he wrote this shit down, but fuck knows where he put his notes. He was going to be much more descriptive and eloquent than this, he’s sure he was. “An attraction thing.”

“You do?” Danny asks next, smile widening. “Okay, before you go any further, I have a new song to play.”

This is possibly the weirdest conversation they’ve had yet, and Drew’s counting that time they got high and discussed a parallel universe filled with gummy versions of everyone they knew. 

Danny grabs his guitar, stands with it rather than sitting back down, picking out a complicated melody of notes. Then he launches into his chord progression and begins to sing. 

‘This is a love song specifically for you. I didn’t write it to be cute, to entertain on a commute, or for any other pursuit but to tell you how I feel. I don’t want to get it twisted, ‘cause I love you I’ve persisted, and I want it to be clear that I wanna hold you near. This is a love song specifically for you – Drew, Drew, Drew, Drew, Drew.’

Drew stares at Danny a beat, then another, watching open-mouthed as Danny puts down his guitar and settles back in his chair. “Wait. Have you been writing me love songs this entire time?”

Danny bursts out laughing. “I honestly have no idea how much more transparent I can be at this point. You want me to turn myself into glass? Yes, Drew, I have been waiting for you to pick up my increasingly strong signals that I also have a thing for you.”

“You could’ve just told me,” Drew mumbles, pretending to be annoyed when he’s high-key delighted.

“I did, like nine times. You kept giving me notes,” Danny says with a couple of blinks.

“This latest song is my favorite yet, though I don’t think it’ll appeal to a very wide demographic.”

Drew doesn’t know what to do with himself. He has so much pent-up energy and no easy way to expend it. He wants to be able to reach over and pull Danny close, to kiss him all the ways he’s been thinking about. Suddenly all of those songs about enforced unwelcome distance make startling sense. The idea that Danny reciprocates his feelings is fragile, tender. Drew nestles it close to his heart, sheltered by his rib-cage. 

“You really had no clue? How I feel about you?” Danny asks, intent-eyed and gentle-voiced.

“No. I – I thought we could have something special, but I had these half-formed notions in my mind that I’d have to accept your rejection or attempt to convince you to give us a try.”

“So this must be…” Danny starts.

“Anti-climactic, yeah. But in the best kind of way.”

“Whoa whoa whoa whoa whoa, I was gonna say Earth-shattering, but sure, you take it that route, that’s _fine_.”

Drew gazes at Danny, hit with the realization that this person he cares for so much feels exactly the same way about him, and he forgets every and any retort he could construct. Instead, he tries to communicate his deep and abiding affection with his silence. 

*

It’s the kind of humid Drew thinks he should be used to by now, a familiarity embedded in his skin so he doesn’t feel so uncomfortable. But he does, because the airport is a hustle and bustle of people, and Drew’s body, soul and mind have had so many months to acclimate to hardly anyone being around that it’s difficult to revert back to withstanding crowds. 

It’s the beginning of Summer, so when Danny greets him, they’re both in similar attire. Drew goes in for a hug at the same time as Danny does, and they meet in the middle. Having Danny there, solid and real, takes his breath away, and when Drew presses a kiss against his smiling lips, that sensation only magnifies. After months of imagining and weeks of detailed description, there aren’t words that accurately convey the emotion behind being able to touch. 

“You look happy,” Danny says with a twinkle in his eye.

“I feel happy,” Drew confirms, wrapping an arm around Danny’s waist and following his lead back to his car. “How are you?”

“It’s all looking up from here,” Danny sings, attracting the attention of passers-by. 

Even though Drew isn’t nearly as confident in his voice as Danny is with his, he joins in for the next line.


End file.
